It's Sunday morning at 9:12 am and I am sitting on the patio with the blind one-eyed cat.
We are listening to the birds.
PeeWee is stalking them.
I am enjoying their call and response worship.
The last bits of my breakfast, Extreme Moose Tracks, melts beside me and some of today's work sits before me. I get to plant.
Yesterday, I found several flower flats marked at half-off at a discount store. They had bloomed once and, I'm told, the store won't sell them at full price because they are "spent."
Uh…no.
One of the petunias has a bloom on it today and several will bloom in the next few days.
They weren't spent; they were dry and abandoned. A wee bit of water and real sun, and the stems are standing tall and adding color – with the promise of even MORE beauty soon – to the TinyB&B.
Those folks didn't know what they had.
If I had more space (& pots), I'd have filled the Vibe with weary discount plants just needing a little fresh water, attention, and a place to grow. With a bit of time and attention, they could have filled my patio with color and invitation.
And that's how I found PeeWee the Pirate: a bit worse for wear and being freshly fostered by some amazing folks who "leave no cat or pup behind." Meribeth (her real name) is blind in the eye she has, has an unusually small head, had been hit by a car (hence the multi-kinked tail), was born with cat herpes, had a foul mouth of teeth needing extraction (and the godawful breath to go with it), and was missing most of her fuzzy coat at our first encounter.
I had clicked into the shop in my high heels at lunch – needing a momentary "vacation." From the back of Ad Astra came a crash bang and then an optimistic mewing. Soon, this drippy funky thing had sniffed its way to 
where I stood. Though I'm allergic and not noted as a fan of cats, it took one Manhattan minute to reluctantly realize that I'd struck pet-gold. Despite the funk-catness, she was smart, happy, and affectionate. She seemed so optimistic…
Eventually, Madi, Kenan, and I adopted her and now she divvies her time between shedding, waking me up, stalking birds that she never catches, keeping me company when I'm sick, and doing other cat things. She also looks like a miniature one-eyed snow leopard (with a small head).
I'm still not a cat-person, but I do appreciate the redemptive work that real love – even begrudgingly first offered or received – can affect on our funk-cat-ness.
During my Moose Tracks breakfast on the patio with my Bible and a thoughtful book, it hit me that this is what I hope for and what I'd like to do. I hope to see that promise in parched funky souls. To reflect the beauty that is so often unseen by the bearer. To offer fresh water where parched ground has dominated and left us brittle.
To love well.
And hopefully – folks will see past my world-weariness – and see welcome and life and love and a few unexpected blooms.
We are no longer abandoned.
We are adopted – rescued even – from the drought of our souls.
We would do well to share the fresh water we've been given.
A few thoughts from folks smarter than I about this thing of redemption & wholeness:
Jason Mraz, Oh Happy Day (live): http://youtu.be/rhACSpAKk54
Audio Adrenaline's, Big House (in Legos!), http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RKxCO6lWigw
Kirk Franklin's, Imagine Me: http://www.youtube.com/watch?feature=fvwp&NR=1&v=I66SDeRQSJ4
Say Something Nice: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RwEYYI-AGWs&sns=fb
